Page 103 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

I smile. “Not a chance.”

He kisses me, long and lingering, then pulls back with a grin. “Let’s go build forever, babe.”

The highway rolls out ahead of us, endless and open. Chase is in the food truck and I’m following behind him in his truck, pulling my Jeep. I blast old playlists with the windows down, as my hair whips in the hot wind. I stick my arm out the window, letting my fingers ride the sauna breeze, watching mile markers tick by like chapters in a book.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” I ask through my speakers since I’ve called Chase on my phone.

He chuckles. “Because we’re crazy.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

The road noise is muted in the cab and Chase’s voice filters through my speakers. “And because we’re brave.”

I smile softly to myself. “Yeah. We are.”

He says, “And because anywhere with you is already home. Love you, baby.”

God, he’s gonna wreck me.

We pull into Austin just after noon. The expo grounds are sprawling, a maze of trucks and tents and banners snapping in the breeze. It’s chaos. It’s magic.

Chase checks in at registration and I wait in the truck and respond to emails. He comes out forty minutes later and tells me to follow him. I do. We weave through the throngs of trucks and trailers, and he parks in his assigned spot. I pull in behind him and cut the engine, exhaling slowly.

Shit! We’re here.

We’re really doing this.

He pulls open the door and murmurs, “We’re here.”

Taking his hand, I jump out of the truck. “We’re her—.” My ankle rolls as I hit the ground in my wedges. I scream as I grapple, trying to find something to hold onto so my face doesn’t meet the gravel. “Chas?—”

I find purchase and exhale as I think I’m safe. I continue to pitch forward as Chase’s shorts fall to his ankles. I wail, “Shit… Oh, shit…” He catches me before my face slams into the rocks. My eyes are level with his groin and my own face stares back at me. My eyes widen as I see various images of my face all over his boxer briefs. Right on his crotch is me with my tongue sticking out and the words, “Property of Roxy West.” My eyes rise to his and I smirk, “Damn right that’s my property, but why in the hell are you wearing those right now?”

He grins, “So everyone knows I’m taken.”

My brow rises, “Who the hell would be close enough to your crotch to see this is my property, Chase West?”

His smile spreads. “Right now… everyone, since you decided to strip me out here in the open, Roxy West.”

I glance around. There’s a circle of phones and gazes all aimed at us. I mutter, “I should bite your dick.”

Throwing his head back, he laughs, and then, helps me to my feet. “I do love it when you talk dirty to me, baby.”

Slapping his shoulder, I growl, “Pull your pants up, weirdo.”

He does and pulls me into his arms. “I freaking love you, Roxy.”

Leaning into his chest, my arms close around his waist, and I mutter, “I love you, too.”

He kisses me softly, and then says, “No matter what happens, we win as long as we’re together.”

I grin, “Damn right we do.”

Setup is a blur. The fryers are tested, the menus are wiped until they gleam, and then, I rewrite them and hang them. The smell of spices and oil and ambition fills the air. Other trucks circle like friendly sharks, competitors and comrades alike.

I catch Chase watching the bigger setups. He takes in their flashier signs.

“Don’t compare,” I whisper, sliding an arm around his waist. “We’re not them.”

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